


Subterfuge & Sharp Teeth

by kaminasa



Category: XCOM (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 10:39:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18386768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaminasa/pseuds/kaminasa
Summary: The revised version!





	Subterfuge & Sharp Teeth

Michael Bennett wasn’t stupid. At least, he liked to think he wasn’t stupid. But what he had just done? One thousand percent stupid.

Michael had, during a supply raid, in an abandoned city, gotten himself separated from the rest of the squad. This is what he got for dashing forwards to secure the crates.

Of course, Tygan had warned them about the lost in the area. Alexandria had been one of the cities to be abandoned when ADVENT had moved everyone to the designated city center. It was no wonder that the lost were rampant in this place. But the crates? The ADVENT troops? This whole place was so obviously a trap.

 

* * *

 

 

Michael recalled how he had stood in the Commander’s quarters, hands held behind his back. The Commander, Alexandra Wellesley, had tapped her worn fingers on the data pad Michael had given her.

The Commander did not look nearly as old as she probably was. Wrinkles around her eyes were prominent but her hands were almost completely smooth. Her body was caving under the twenty years of inactivity, and she had trouble staying upright at times. The Commander brushed loose hair back, revealing the poorly coloured, snow-white roots beneath.

“Michael this is all very intriguing but what exactly do you mean by a trap?” She asked.

“It’s just too convenient ma’am.” Michael said. “It feels like they want us to interfere with the supplies. It’s possible that the Assassin or the Warlock could show up. I suggest we don’t move in to secure the supplies.” The Commander nodded, considering her options. The silence weighed heavily upon the room before the Commander finally nodded to herself. She stood and handed the data pad back to Michael.

“Get the Skyranger prepared. We’ll leave for Alexandria as soon as possible. Assemble a squad and gear them up.” Michael blinked a few times.

“But Commander—”

“The supplies are worth the risk Captain Bennett.” She said. The Commander pinned Michael with a look, blue-grey eyes gleaming. “And that is all I will say on the matter.”

So Michael had assembled a squad: Amy Roberts and Nicoletta Moletta, who were inseparable since they started dating. Flynn Washington, one of the newer recruits was also coming with them, and rounding off the team was Elena Dragunova, the resident reaper ambassador. Jane, and Mary, their sniper, were still injured from their previous mission, where they had encountered a particularly nasty new alien. Michael had to make do with what they had.

 

* * *

 

 

And now, Michael was trapped, separated from his team and completely surrounded by hostiles. Michael let off another shot from his mag rifle in the face of a lost and sprinted further ahead, further away from his squad.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” He hissed, activating another supply crate. He hooked the inflatable balloon onto the crate and activated the tracking signal. Michael barely had time to finish what he was doing before his GREMLIN beeped wildly. Michael spun around and fired his rifle, taking down another lost. _Bang, bang, bang!_ Michael running out of ammunition by now, but the lost were dwindling, seemingly more interesting in the constant, loud crack of Nicoletta’s mini-gun.

But still, the lost converged and Michael was forced further into the narrow street lined with supply crates. He quickly hid himself behind a crate, activating it like he had the last. Michael watched with growing panic as the lost stumbled closer and closer. He held a hand up to his ear and activated his radio.

“Can someone get over here and help me? I can’t hold off these lost forever!” He said. He waited for a response. And waited. And waited…

Something was wrong. Michael risked a quick look over the crate to where his squad was. Nicoletta and Amy were the only visible soldiers, bright spots of colour in the grey and green city. They were fighting what looked like an Andromedon, but it was far too distant to make out. Michael tried again to speak with them over the radio. And again, there was nothing but silence.

“Hello? Central? Commander?” He asked. Michael was starting to panic. He forced the fear down and took another shot at the few lost that were converging on him. Once they were dead, he crouched down behind the crate again.

“Can anyone hear me?” He said, the panic was starting to seep into his voice. Michael prayed for someone, anyone to answer.

“ _Oh, I can hear you._ ”

It was at that moment that Michael knew, he had fucked up.

Michael was suddenly acutely aware of the bright red triangle pinned to his chest, right over his heart. He wasted no time in moving, darting into a warehouse to his right. He skidded to a halt, hunkering down behind a set of abandoned crates. His GREMLIN, who had been beeping wildly this whole time, hovered in front of his face. He quickly brought it closer and saw why the robot had been so erratic. _Signal Lost_ , the screen flashed the letters in bright white. Michael swore and pushed his back further against the crate.

“ _Aw… thought you could hide eh?_ ” Again, the voice came over the radio, right in Michael’s ear. It sounded like nothing he had ever heard before, aside from…

The Chosen. Michael’s blood ran cold at that realization. Then ran colder still when he realized that this was a Chosen that he hadn’t fought before.

Michael had fought the Assassin and the Warlock. Had been forced to listen to them ramble on through his radio about the Elders and their glory. He knew their tactics and weaknesses. He had grown accustomed to the raspy, grating voices they had. But Michael knew nothing, _nothing_ about this one. But what really bothered Michael, in that moment, was that this Chosen’s voice wasn’t completely grating or raspy like the others. It was smoky, hushed and subdued. And it was far more unnerving than the other two Chosen’s. Michael almost wished that it was the Warlock or the Assassin chatting away into his radio.

Michael found himself curling up into a tight ball. There was something off about the way this Chosen spoke. His GREMLIN had stopped beeping now and was floating just close enough to Michael to be a comfort. He grabbed the GREMLIN, pulled it close and peeled off the pack panel.

Michael disconnected cables, flicked switches and hit buttons until he was sure the GREMLIN was reset. He quickly brought the robot back to life and watched as the screen flickered.

 _“At least have the civility to introduce yourself._ ” The Chosen continued. _“I’ve been waiting for your people all day. And I’m bored_.” Michael’s mind raced. He had been waiting for them? Then that meant that Michael had been right. The supply raid had been a trap, meant to lure them out so that…

 _So that the Chosen could do what?_ Michael shook the thought out of his head and looked at the screen of his GREMLIN. His heart sank as he saw the vitals of his squad mates.

Most of them were injured. Elena was suffering from what looked like an acid burn and Flynn was suffering from severe trauma to his right shoulder. Michael had to send his GREMLIN out to heal them. But what if…

Michael pulled his GREMLIN close and activated the manual keyboard on the screen. Make the message as brief and critical as possible.

 

**> > SEPERATED FROM SQUAD. BEING TRACKED BY POSSIBLE CHOSEN. REQUIRE ASSISTANCE ASAP.**

 

“GREMLIN, get on the heals.” He said. The voice command sent the GREMLIN flying away, metal wings buzzing. Michael hunkered down further—

Michael stifled a scream as the sound of a bullet ripping through wood sounded just next to his head. He covered his head, dumbfounded by the shock of the bullet.

“ _Well?_ ” The Chosen asked. Michael said nothing, biting down on his tongue to prevent himself from talking. “ _Come now, don’t be shy. I won’t bite,”_ The Chosen chuckled.

Michael needed to move. The Chosen knew exactly where he was or at least knew roughly where he was, though it felt like the former was most likely. Michael quickly moved from behind one crate to another. He kept his eyes firmly locked on the windows, trying to figure out exactly where the shot had come from.

Michael was often lauded for being brave, for jumping into danger to protect people. He was supposed to be the courageous soldier, one that wouldn’t crumble in the face of even the most terrifying enemy. But Michael was scared. His whole frame was tensed up, ready to run at the slightest sign of real danger.

Then Michael felt the weak grasp of a hand on his shoulder, Michael spun and raised his rifle. The three lost opened their jaws and stumbled closer. Michael fired right into one of the things open mouth. The three creatures weren’t stumbling towards Michael though.

“Michael!” Flynn shouted, firing his shard gun into the gut of one of the lost. Michael quickly fired round after round into the heads of each lost. They dropped grotesquely to the ground but Flynn had no qualms with stepping over the bodies. Next to him, Michael’s GREMLIN hovered and beeped.

“We got your message! Which one is it?” He asked. His hand was on his sword. Michael tried to respond but was cut off by the Chosen.

“ _You don’t hesitate to pull the trigger… I like that_.” It purred. Michael’s stomach seemed to turn into knots several times over.

“I don’t know Flynn. It’s one we haven’t fought before.” Michael said, ducking behind a short wall. Flynn followed suit, eyes darting about.

“Awesome! I get to fight a new Chosen,” he said, eyes wide and giddy. Michael punched him in the shoulder.

“No, not awesome! We’re in danger,” he hissed. But the ranger was too caught up in the adrenaline of combat to care. Flynn pointed outside to one of the supply crates. The ADVENT signal transmitter had been activated and it glowed red.

“We can get that crate!” Flynn said, reloading his shotgun. Michael stared at him, eyes wide.

“Are you kidding Flynn? You’ll get hurt. I can’t risk that!” Michael sighed, sitting back against the wall, and put his head in his hands. “We shouldn’t have come out here. Your lives are worth more than a bunch of stupid crates,”

“ _Well look at you! All cute and righteous.”_ The thing said. Michael banged his fist against the wall.

“I’m not righteous! I’m just right!” He yelled. Flynn leaned back. His looked over at Michael, his expression a mix between confused, scared and amused.

“Uh… Who ya’ talking to buddy?” Flynn asked. Michael pointed at his radio.

“The Chosen. That’s why I can’t contact any of you guys. He’s blocked up the system and won’t shut up!” Michael hissed.

“ _Rude,_ ” Michael rolled his eyes.

Flynn sighed and looked back at the crate.

“No man, we need those supplies. Look. If you activate the crate, I’ll watch your back and shoot anything that moves. How’s that sound?” Michael hesitated. Could they risk it? Finally, Michael nodded and began to make his way out of the safety of warehouse towards the supply crate. Flynn was just a few feet behind him, gun pointed at the rooves, at windows and abandoned vehicles.

Michael quickly activated the crate, attached the balloon and turned back to Flynn.

“Flynn, we should—” But Michael was cut off short as his radio exploded back to life.

“ _Flynn! Get Michael out of there! NOW_!” It was Elena. Elena was normally almost completely emotionless when she spoke; she had the dry, seasoned voice of an expert tracker. But now… now she was shrill. Her voice was awash with pure, visceral fear. “ _Please, if you let that thing get his hands on you… god dammit Flynn, it’s a fate worse than death! The Hunter has no mercy to spare for anyone!”_ She cried. Michael swallowed heavily, tried to respond but Elena’s fear only fed into his own. The Hunter. He finally had a name to the thing stalking him!

Michael looked back at the dock and saw Nicoletta and Amy making their way up the street. They were now close enough that Michael could see the white of their eyes, and the grit of their teeth as they scrambled closer.

“ _We haven’t met before. But I’ve sure heard a lot about you._ ” Flynn jolted upright. The Hunter was talking to all the soldiers now. Michael could see everyone’s eyes widen and guns point in every direction. “ _The legendary XCOM and their noble commander! Reunited at long last._ ” The thing hissed. Michael thought there was something off with the voice. It seemed to close, too… real.

“Unfortunately, this little party is going to be short-lived,” Michael looked up at the roof of the warehouse to his right and saw…

Michael had no time to get a good look at the creature before it jumped down from the warehouse roof, into the building. But he was able make out was the hood on its head and the rifle on its back.

Flynn dashed to high cover and drew his arc blade. He dashed into the building, roaring. Then, the roar turned to a panicked shout and the sound of a rifle firing filled the air. Michael’s GREMLIN beeped wildly and flashed red. Michael swore as he realized that Flynn was bleeding out. Just what kind of ammunition was this thing using? He quickly ordered his GREMLIN to stabilize the wounded soldier. Michael dashed over to the entrance of the warehouse and peered in. It was dark, with only Michael’s flashlight illuminating the room. Flynn was lying a puddle of his own blood, gasping for breath, on the edge of awake and unconscious.

Suddenly, a blinding flash of light, and when he reopened his eyes, there were two ADVENT troopers standing over Flynn. They turned to face Michael, shouting in their alien tongue. Then, Michael saw it, the thing, the Chosen!

The Hunter was crouching behind one of the storage shelves. The trooper just in front of the thing obscured it from view. And then it stood.

Michael had never really gotten a sense of the size of the Chosen. They usually stood alone, in the distance and never among other troopers. He had gotten close to the Assassin before but hadn’t been too caught up with healing his friend to look at her. He had just assumed they were slightly taller than humans, but now?

The Chosen was at least three times the size of a normal human person; the ADVENT trooper barely reached chest height on the Hunter. And now Michael could see its face. Michael could see its eyes! A blend of the usual psionic purple tinged with an almost blood red glow; as if its eyes were dyed with blood. Its face was a poor facsimile of a humans; its cheekbones were too high, eyes too big, and its mouth, filled with sharp teeth—  
Michael had to turn away, had to stop looking. Everything about the Hunter was wrong. Michael shook the thought out of his head and told his GREMLIN to revive Flynn. Michael then made the wise decision to dart into the other warehouse, closing the door behind him.

“Where’s Flynn?” Michael almost jumped out of his skin as Nicoletta grabbed his shoulder. Michael took a shaky breath. Nicoletta was injured, her bad shoulder was out of place again.

“He’s been stabilized I just told my GREMLIN to revive him but there are two troopers in the warehouse. I think that the Hunter summoned them.” Nicoletta nodded. She turned to look at Amy and took her hand.

“Should we go light em’ up?” Nicoletta asked. Amy smiled.

“Only if you have enough bullets.” She said. Nicoletta kissed Amy’s hand and then burst through the warehouse door, walking forwards with her mini-gun blazing. Amy followed suit, firing round after round out of her magnetic rifle.

Michael wanted to ask them to stay. He felt to exposed here. Then without warning, Elena was by his side. She gripped his shoulders and stared at him through her mask.

“Michael are you alright? Were you hit? Did he say anything to you? Did you see him?” Elena rattled away, frantic and panicky. Michael had to grab her shoulders and pull her off of him.

“Elena! You have to calm down.” Michael shouted. Elena stopped talking, but her breathing was still heavy. “Listen. I need you to go and find Flynn. Last I saw him he was in the other warehouse. He’s badly injured. I need you to go get him ok?” Elena looked over at the building. Michael could feel her apprehension, but she nodded. Elena disappeared into the shadows and began making her way to Flynn. Michael was now, truly, alone. He took a deep breath and begun issuing commands to his GREMLIN. Heal Nicoletta, who had taking a beating from the Andromedon and then aid protocol on Flynn. He needed it.

And then a sharp sting in his neck. Like a wasp. At first, Michael wasn’t too concerned. It could have been flying shrapnel or stone. And then Michael felt the burning, acid pain and he fell over, legs giving out. Michael felt all feeling leave his arms and legs but the burning acid sensation in his neck was still there. What had happened? Then, over the radio he heard the Hunter speak.

“ _Hope you’re comfortable._ ” The Hunter purred. Michael wanted to scream, but whatever he had been shot with was paralyzing him. He couldn’t breathe, the panic was setting in now.

Michael struggled uselessly on the ground, only managing to flop over onto his back. He gasped.

The Hunter was standing over him, head almost brushing the low hanging lights above them. He grinned wide, all teeth, no love.

“Well! This one certainly looks tough.” He said, kneeling down. Michael wanted to turn away, close his eyes but the Hunter was right there. He could see very little detail now. Michael was suddenly distinctly aware of how close the thing was. Too close for comfort. He could smell the damn thing, like gunmetal and oil.

The Hunter then slipped a hand under Michael’s neck, holding his head up, forcing the medic to face him.

“But I’ll bet he’ll crack like all the rest.” The Hunter said. Michael tried to lash out, to punch and kick. Mostly he just wanted to scream. Michael was feeling pure, undiluted horror. He couldn’t stand this, he couldn’t hold back his panic. Especially not as the thing laid a hand over his face, thumb and little finger touching each temple. His hands weren’t cold. In fact, they felt feverish; far too hot. The Hunter smiled and leaned down further, just so Michael could hear him.

“Did you know the original psionic probe was painless and non-invasive?” He asked. “Luckily, we fixed that design flaw.”

Then pain began. It was agony to Michael. Icy like a thousand frozen needles jabbed into his head. But, hot, hot, _hot_! Like a burning iron pressed into his brain! The pain was too much, far too much to bear.

But the worst part of it? Michael could feel, physically _feel_ , the probe digging around in his mind. He could feel it drawing out memories of the Avenger, of his friends, and even about _himself_. Michael felt utterly infected, and that feeling was worse than any searing pain. He was forced to recall everything. From his life on the Avenger to the few days he could recall having spent with his real parents. Michael couldn’t stop the memories from escaping, like trying to catch water in a sieve.

Finally, _finally_ , the probe was gone. What was probably seconds and felt like hours. Michael could breathe again. He gasped for air, tried to move. The Hunter was still there however. Michael couldn’t figure out why he was still there, hovering over him. The Hunter smiled and brushed a stray hair out of Michael’s face, mockingly caring.

“Maybe you’re not so bland after all…” He mused. The Hunter then stood, raised his arms and was gone. The light from the teleportation was enough to knock Michael unconscious.

 

* * *

 

 

Michael woke up to the feeling of a hand on the back of his neck. His jolted up, knocking the glass of water from Dr Jablonski’s hand. The scientist stumbled back slightly, now empty glass dripping. Michael stared at the scientist, and the growing water stain on his blankets.

“Well good morning to you to.” The doctor said. He walked away to collect another glass and, on his way to the sink, opened the door to the infirmary.

Jane came barging in, arm still wrapped in its cast. She looked like she hadn’t slept. Her hair was wild and she had an air of craziness about her. When she laid eyes on Michael, Jane gasped. She bounded over, throwing her good arm around Michael and pulling him close.

“You’re okay!” She said. Michael patted her back and sighed. The brief moment of panic he had felt waking up had now dissipated. He was safe. Jane was here and she was okay. He was okay. Sort of. Michael still had a wicked headache. Jane sat down on the chair next to the bed and took Michael’s hand.

“Elena told me what happened.” She said. Michael turned away and looked down at their interlocked hands. “How much does he know?” She asked. Michael sighed.

“More than I would like.” Michael said. He tried not to recall those few, awful seconds again. Michael rubbed the back of his neck, wincing as his fingers passed over the still swollen skin where the tranquilizer had entered. Worse than the pain though was the memory of the pain caused by the psionic probe, the Hunter’s sharp-toothed grin. Jane took Michael’s hand again, squeezing it.

“Hey, we’ll be ok. Next time we even think that bastard will show up, I promise I’ll come with you. I won’t let this happen again.” Michael smiled and squeezed Jane’s hand back. Jane pulled him up, slinging an arm around him.

“C’mon! Let’s get you some dinner and some drink,” She said. Michael nodded and let Jane guide him to the bar. “Besides! You secured enough supplies by yourself to keep us going for another two months. You _deserve_ a drink.”

So Michael conceded. But even through the fun and laughter of dinner, through the taste of cheap moonshine on his tongue, he couldn’t help but feel that somehow all of the information that had been taken from his brain would come back to trouble him.


End file.
